And They Entered The Games
by Aeranythe Echosong
Summary: When a new Summoner joins the League, his botched Summons send Champions out into an alternate dimension... of Panem, home of Katniss Everdeen and the Hunger Games. What will happen then? Rated T because League of Legends is T.
1. Summoners' Mistake

Summoners' Mistakes

* * *

_In District 12_

Katniss sat in a lush clearing, thinking about her life in District 12. Her hunting bag was next to her, filled with several birds and some plants. The forest around her was quiet, calm, and hid her well from the rest of the District.

It was a week before the Reaping, and the District was agitated, nervous. Prim was especially agitated, worrying about her being picked - she, however, only had one slip in the reaping ball and her chances of being picked were infinitely small. There were hundreds of other children that could take her place. Katniss refused to worry about it.

She did not know what she would have to worry about, because it was completely out of her world. For now.

* * *

_In Summoner's Rift_

Five Champions stood on a cobblestone platform, surveying the large purple crystal in front of them. It was not glowing like it was supposed to - it looked scraped and cracked. They had failed to defend it.

No - rather, their Summoners had failed to defend it. All they did was provide a vessel for the Summoners to do their work. It was not their fault. And it didn't matter anyway.

Even as these thoughts ran through Riven's head, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of anger towards her teammates. She wasn't the one who got a 1/15/2 Kill/Death/Assist ratio. She didn't forget to ward the River. She was the one who had destroyed seven turrets across three lanes, who had killed the Dragon and Baron alone while her teammates were busy pushing bot (and failing), who had kept Morgana, Tristana, and Garen from destroying the Inhibitor singlehandedly, who had been the only one that got more kills than deaths. She had pushed mid up to the Inhibitor, and then her team had failed to pick up on the notion that they were supposed to help. Even her Summoner's ranting and incessant profanity had failed to alert their support that she was supposed to help, instead of trying to carry the game.

It didn't matter anyway, she told herself. The game was only initiated to settle a border dispute where nobody lived. For crying out loud, there were only 23 colonists on the Noxian side and 34 on the Demacian side. They weren't fighting, either. It was over farmland that wasn't necessary.

The white-haired Champion stepped off of the cobblestone, into the halls that defined the Institute. She watched tiredly as Sona drifted past her fuming over their team's loss and her Summoner's lack of brains. Her blue hair wasn't as smooth as usual, due to Tristana's gunpowder being a little uncontrolled, but it was healing quickly. The latent magic from the summoning platform was more that enough to keep them in perfect condition.

Veigar followed Sona out, almost running to keep up with her slow pace. His purple hat was askew, with more than a few stains and vapors emanating from it, kudos to Singed's potions. His face was twisted into an expression of pure hatred, but Riven saw his struggling to keep the expression up. She burst into laughter when he failed to keep a foolish grin from appearing, and Veigar turned carrot orange and ran faster.

Leona and Diana were the last two to come out, walking quickly and discussing in whispered tones how their team could have improved. By then, however, Riven had pushed herself out of the alcove that she had observed her team from and went into her room, too tired to just sit there. She rinsed the leftover blood that the magic hadn't disintegrated, and went to sleep (sword in bed).

* * *

_In District 12_

Katniss had managed to pick up quite a few things for her birds, and she strode home under cover of night carrying plenty of goods. He hunting bag was slung over he shoulder, and her supplies bagged within it.

Opening the wooden door that was supposed to keep cold out of her home, she stepped inside and dumped the supplies onto the wooden slab of a table that was the center of their humble house.

Silence.

_"Usually they come out when I come home... wonder why they aren't responding?"_ Katniss cautiously opened the door that led to their bedroom, peering inside.

Prim and her mother were poring over the medicine book, while tending to a strange woman.

"Um... hello?" Katniss ventured. She knew nothing about healing, but she could tell that the injuries the woman sustained were really bad if her mother was this confused over how to heal them.

"Katniss... Hi. Sorry I didn't greet you. She appeared on our doorstep really cut up, and we brought her in to help her... Did you bring any herbs? We sort of need them." Prim turned around slowly, and looked up at Katniss. She smiled and went back to trying to fix the mysterious woman's cuts.

Katniss nodded, and went back to the central table, grabbing a few plants and bagged poultices to bring to Prim. Prim eagerly took them and went back to work. Katniss busied herself with making some dinner for her family, but couldn't keep herself from checking on Prim and her mother's healing.

The woman they were trying to heal didn't look as if she were from District 12... She looked as if she were from the Capitol, with her clothing. Then there was the matter with the glasses placed next to her, which were half-burnt and covered with dust and scratches - apparently, the woman had been clutching them tightly when they found her. Her hair was a deep black, and her skin was somewhat pale-ish. Her hands each bore metal gauntlets, and one had a crossbow device on it. Her clothing was relatively tight, in dark colors with metal armor at joints. A ragged cape lay next to her.

Katniss wondered how she had gotten to such a desolate place as District 12, and who she was. Mostly how she was there.

* * *

_In the Institute of War_

Riven turned around on her bed, trapped in a nightmare. She was in the land with the melters all over again, the chemicals burning and scarring her. Gasping and sweating, she woke with a start when her flipping somehow managed to push her sword off the bed, with a loud clatter.

_"I really have to stop bringing that thing onto the bed..."_ Riven made a mental note to check it for cracks. This had happened several times, although she refused to admit it to any others, champion or summoner.

Fifteen minutes later, she was armed normally and went off into the dining hall, where the vast majority of Champions were gathered already. Ahri, noticing a new presence, turned around and waved Riven over to where the crowd stood.

"What's the matter? Why is everyone gathered here, of all places?" Riven asked. Usually, in the morning, the Champions would wake up in several waves and left as soon as they finished eating. The yordles would wake first, being full of energy as they were. Then the assassins and mages would wake up, and then the remainder of the Champions would arise from their slumber. It made sense.

However, it seemed that all the yordles were still here. In fact, they seemed worried over something. Everyone look worried, Ahri included.

"Haven't you heard? Two champions went missing last night. Vayne was on my team last night, and when she was supposed to be summoned back to the the Institute, shenever made it. I called the alarm, but the elder summoners still can't figure out why she's missing. Soraka disappeared this morning after a practice match." Ahri's words tumbled out quietly, missing the flirtatiousness that it usually bore. She was being serious, for once. "I think something went wrong with the summoning process, but here's the problem: The process is identical each time, and each Summoner apparently can't cast it differently. Which means that the summoner that summoned them could probably inadvertently make more of us disappear. Yesterday was a newbie match, meaning that everybody was new-"

"So that's why our team lost so badly..."

"-and this summoner's been playing really prolifically. Nobody else has disappeared yet, but that's because nobody has played a game since Soraka disappeared. This summoner that's botching up the spell can't be banned either, because he's the son of one of the really powerful mages that funds the Institute. You've heard of Kytle? The guy that apparently provides the Fields of Justice? They're not even in Valoran, they're on some other continent, and he says that he is keeping the Fields safe from outside interference. So the Institute is completely dependent on him."

"Ahri... I think I know enough."

"Okie, but try not be selected by the summoner named 'WingsLiekB055' 'k?"

"Can I go and actually have breakfast? I'll keep... that... in mind..."

"Sure~" Ahri's familiar flirty tone reentered her voice, and she went back to the crowd - still gathered - around the Summoner. Poor guy, he just had to be selected to break the news to the Champions and now he was being threatened with death by Mordekaiser, who was clearly trying to joke to get people to calm down, but the Summoner didn't get the message.

Riven picked up some waffles and some fruit, and sat down at the only unoccupied table remaining. Most of the other tables had about one Champion each, and some had groups of Summoners discussing the problem. Riven refused to listen. She already had her sword to worry about - it had cracked.

* * *

_In District 12_

Three days had passed, and Katniss's hunting now had to support four people, although Katniss and her mother were allowing the stranger to eat some of their share as well. The days passed calmly, but Prim worried about the Reaping.

The stranger had regained consciousness, and had woken up very suddenly. Katniss recalled the somewhat humorous moment:

_A day ago:_

The cuts and scrapes had healed quickly, but she still had a gash on her shoulder and burn marks all over her back, stained with purple and black.

"Darkness lurks around every corner... I will purger them all... for Father... for revenge..." she muttered in her sleep.

"Did she just talk?" Prim perked up, immediately checking to see if the woman was awake.

"Yes, I'm talking - wait... _who are you?_" The woman's eyes snapped open, her gaze immediately landing on Prim. "You're not a Summoner. Why are you tending to me?" Suspicion leaked into her voice.

"I'm Prim. You're in District 12. You were hurt really badly..." Prim whispered, half trying to be soothing and half trying to calm herself down. "Do you remember how you got here?"

"No. But I do remember everything else." The woman stated bluntly, glancing at everything around her. "Am I in Ionia?"

"What's 'Ionee-a'? Is it where you're from?" Prim asked, clearly confused.

"Let me do this." Katniss took Prim's place in front of the stranger. "Who are you, where did you come from, and what do you remember before you got here?"

"You don't seem any risk, so it doesn't matter if I tell you." The stranger thought for a moment, before continuing. "My name is Vayne. I come from Demacia. And if it really helps you, I remember being in the League of Legends and being summoned out of the Fields of Justice. You don't look like anybody in Valoran. There is an untapped mana flow here, and I have no idea who you are. Why don't you introduce yourself to me?"

Katniss blinked in surprise. _"Vayne? Demacia? League of Legends? Fields of Justice? Valoran? Mana? What? Is she even sane?_" Taking a moment to absorb all of the strange terms this 'Vayne' used, she took a deep breath and responded.

"I'm Katniss Everdeen. This is my family, and we live in District 12 of Panem. And I have never heard of any place called 'Valoran', the 'League of Legends', 'Demacia', or anything called 'Mana'."

Vayne was lost in thought, and then answered.

"Tell me everything about this place. Tell me anything about how I appeared here. And tell me if anyone else comes along. I have a feeling that I'm not the only Champion to appear here."


	2. The Night Hunter

The Night Hunter

* * *

_In Panem_

Shauna Vayne stepped out of the small cot that Prim had provided, testing her legs. Nothing really hurt other than the wound that Riven had given her that Singed had accidentally spilled burning potion on.

She could feel Soraka's presence. The mana balance was completely uncluttered other than one drain, which was being used for healing purposes. Sona didn't use mana and Taric hadn't participated in a League match for a very long time. It had to be Soraka.

The horned, purple celestial girl could probably fix her wounds in a matter of minutes and help her find their way home. Not that Vayne had anything against Katniss or her healing family, but she was needed in Valoran. There weren't any dark spirits here to be hunted, although Vayne refused to admit that she appreciated the break.

"Van? Do you want-" Prim stepped quietly into the room.

"It's _Vayne_. V, A, Y, N, E."

"Okay, do you want any food? Katniss got some turkey and didn't trade it off."

Katniss had explained the status quo of District 12 two days ago, and Vayne still didn't fully understand it. Apparently, the country was named 'Panem' (strange name, but Vayne wasn't about to pick on that) and it was divided into 14 sections. There was the 'Capitol', which controlled all 13 other sections. District 12 was in the 'Appalachians', a mountainous place. It mined coal for the Capitol.

Then there was the Hunger Games, which the Capitol hosted each year since an unexplained war. Two 'tributes' were 'Reaped' from the children of each District, and sent to the Capitol to basically fight to the death. Only one survived, and he or she was lathered with gifts and cherished.

Vayne didn't understand why any of this was necessary. Selecting 24 random children to fight to the death... why? The Capitol's power could just as easily be expressed through different means - killing them directly, using its technology for a more militaristic purpose, instead of wasting it on spoiled people that did nothing in the Capitol.

Katniss had ranted about how oppressive the Capitol was the night Vayne had woken up, allowing her real view of the regime to color her words. She had ranted about the Districts' education being biased, about District 13 being demolished, about how children as young as 13 had to fight, about how the Capitol citizens cared nothing about the Districts. Vayne had long since falled into a half-sleep, fighting monsters in her dreams. No normal human could be more evil that Nocturne, or Vladimir. She had decided this upon hearing about 'the evil President Snow', who, to her eyes, was simply a greedy, spoiled, power-filled pig who probably rigged the 'election'. No matter. He could be destroyed easily.

She fell asleep before hearing about the Peacekeepers and how they hated refugees. She missed the warning that came from Katniss's mouth about not wandering into the town, for fear of being caught. Even the lax Head Peacekeeper could probably find fault with Vayne's poison-tipped silver darts that she used freely.

* * *

_In the Institute of War_

Ahri woke up with a loud yawn, and stretched. Her sleep had been peaceful, but in the back of her kitsune mind she worried for Vayne and Soraka. She may have seemed like an uncaring, false fox girl but when she absorbed humans' souls she felt their last vivid memory. She understood why people did things the way they did, even when it seemed a hopeless cause.

She wasn't a merciless beast or a naive girl. She could be regarded as mature. She just liked playing dumb and airheaded.

Ah well. Perhaps if she lured the summoner into transporting her into the unknown she could help Soraka and Vayne out?

It was too risky. _"I should just keep participating in League matches until random chance brings me upon the Summoner. Everybody else has temporarily withdrawn anyway, so it's okay."_

She dressed quickly, making sure that her ears weren't tangled up in her hair. Brushing her tails smooth as she walked into the dining hall, she surveyed the newsboard - nothing. Vayne and Soraka were still in an unidentified place, but it was confirmed to not be within Valoran... or on the continent where the Fields were hosted, either.

The hall was empty. Assured of their not having to be in a League match, most of the champions were probably sleeping in. Aside from Teemo, which was probably using his camouflage unconsciously while eating (she could hear him), there was nobody else.

"Teemo?~" Ahri asked. The furry yordle appeared suddenly at the table next to her, making her jump.

"Hi Ahri! It's so quiet here, but I couldn't sleep. They wouldn't let me withdraw either, but there's still issues to resolve. We'll probably fight 1v1, so you should get some food." Teemo handed Ahri a plate of sandwiches, knowing that she liked eating them.

"Thanks~." Ahri sat down across from Teemo, observing his plate. "How's Tristana?~" Ahri questioned mischievously, trying to break the awkward silence. Teemo blushed (was that even possible with fur?)

"Uhm... we're okay." The awkward silence resumed, penetrated only by the sound of a yordle and a kitsune eating.

"I'm thinking of following them. Into the place they went to. I could help them." Ahri said, once she finished eating.

"Are you crazy? We don't even know anything about where they are and you want to follow them?"

"Yes... I'm an assassin, I'll be fine! From the Summoners' studies, apparently Vayne and Soraka are the only mana users in that entire place. So any threats could be dispatched really easily."

"It's still a crazy plan."

"I know."

* * *

_In Panem_

Night settled on District 12. There was one day left until the so-called 'Reaping', which Katniss and Prim seemed to be especially nervous about.

Vayne was about to retire from the night when a flash of light outside of the house caught her her attention. As the Night Hunter watched, Ahri dropped out from the portal, landing on the soft grass outside of the home. She wasn't bruised or injured, she just seemed exhausted.

Vayne was about to help her when she saw Katniss already dashing outside and lifting her up, bring her in.

"Ahri? What are you doing here?!" As soon as Ahri entered the room, Vayne started criticizing her. "What were you thinking?"

"I wanted to help you guys." Ahri sounded tired, and her tails were somewhat scorched - probably due to the portal's limited space. "Where's Soraka?"

"She's somewhere nearby. I haven't had time to look for her yet. Prim - that girl over there - has been healing me. She won't let me leave."

Upon hearing her name mentioned, Prim looked up. "You... know each other?"

"Yes, we're both Champions in the League of Legends." Ahri answered for Vayne. "I'm Ahri, the Nine-Tailed Fox. You're Prim, right?"

"Yes..." Prim answered. She was sleepy and her attention span wasn't long when she was tired.

"Other business. I brought some health pots in the case that you didn't meet Soraka yet, and you look like you need them. I have eight with me, then two mana pots, then three Sunfire Capes, and some other defensive stuff." Ahri pulled out a load of equipment from a small bag. Normally the build objects were spells transferred from items to charms, but the process could be reversed. Charms were unusable where there was no mana flow.

"Thanks." Vayne took some equipment and some health potions. "Almost home."

"Nowhere close. Tomorrow we should go look for Soraka." Ahri answered. The night was getting to her too. When it had been morning when she left the Institute, the summoning seemed to take about ten hours.

"Yep." Vayne answered tiredly, and fell asleep.

Ahri stared out the crude window, wondering what this world held.

* * *

_Next Morning_

The dawn brought awakening, and both Ahri and Vayne woke once the sun rose. Prim was still asleep, but Katniss had left already, presumably to go hunting.

Over the nighttime, the side effects of the healing potion (namely, equipment repair, although neither champion know how it worked) had fixed Vayne's weapons and topped off her energy.

With unspoken words, they agreed to break Prim's demand that they not leave the house and went looking for Soraka. They found her in the woods, just outside of the fence. She was in perfect condition, but confused.

Vayne took the chance to explain everything she knew about the world.

"The 'Reaping' is today, then." Soraka stated once Vayne had finished. "Prim will be worried..."

"It doesn't matter. What matters is that we get back to the Institute. The champions have all withdrawn out of fear of being transported here, and the last time I saw the news the summoners had no idea what was going on." Ahri retorted.

"We should fix things here and then return home. It'll be simple." Vayne assured. "Katniss seems to hate the 'Capitol', and it seems that they might have some technology that rival's Piltover's. Given how ignorant the citizens there are, we could take it easily."

"Good plan." Ahri said. "How are we going to get there, though?"

"We can take the Games up on its offer. Volunteer and travel to the Capitol. We'll be saving the Everdeens some pain and probably help out the unlucky boy who had to fight for his life."

"There's three of us and one slot to get in." Soraka pointed out. She didn't like this plan.

"They want volunteers, they can get volunteers. I have no idea how we can all get in but if all fails, we can just storm the Capitol while the Games is happening."

"We could take slots from different Districts." Ahri proposed. "Six, eleven, and twelve. Form an 'alliance'. Then betray the rules."

"Okay. We'll travel to the districts. We have some talents, right? Use them for transport, and volunteer and each Reaping." Soraka wasn't exactly ecstatic, but she supported the idea of preventing innocent children die in the Games.

_"The Hunger Games. The Fields of Justice. They are similar... All require death. But in one, there is only one victor. Supposedly."_ Ahri thought.

"The Reaping is today. We can make it to the nearest district before the Reaping, it's at two. The sun has just come up. Let's go. Good luck." Soraka chided, and immediately flash teleported away.

* * *

_In the Institute of War_

The man known as "WingsLiekB055" to the Champions smiled as he felt Ahri's presence disappear from Runeterra.

The purging of the champions was possible. Although they had all refused to participate until further notice, it would be easy to force them to play the game. Simply cause a disagreement and they would all come running.

His motives weren't exactly altruistic.


	3. Quiet Before The Storm

**Quick Note:**

**Like all authors*, I greatly appreciate reviews. I know you're out there. Help a novice writer out?  
Also, I am horrible at planning out stories, keeping a character balanced, detail in general, etc. etc. so some advice on my writing style would help a lot as well. and the story itself. and anything that you'd like to see happen in the story, if possible. um and if you do that for me I'll give you a virtual cookie ;)**

***except those who don't**

**(oh, and the map of Panem is at )**

* * *

_In the Institute of War_

"Ahri? Are you there?" Teemo cried in half-panic. He had believed that Ahri was joking over following the missing champions, but her perpetually flirtatious tone had masked her seriousness. Had she left yet?

A human stepped out of the doorway to the left of Teemo and jumped in surprise upon seeing the furry yordle at his door. "Do you need any help?" He asked warmly.

"I don't need any help, the fox lady does! Have you seen her?"

The man frowned, trying to recall any 'fox lady'. "You mean Ahri? She went this way about five minutes ago. Do you need to find her?"

"Yes, yes, yes!"

"You could go to her room, it's down the hall in this direction..." He lifted Teemo up and walked briskly to Ahri's room. "Here. I have business, but she should be in here. All the panic over one summoner forced every champion out of the Fields, didn't it?" He smiled and left.

Teemo inwardly sighed. Ahri probably wasn't here, but best not to skip it. He was here anyway.

He slowly (although not due to anxiety... the door was quite heavy) opened the door. The light from the subtly enchanted window landed in the empty landing... No Ahri. Nobody was here other than Teemo.

"She left, didn't she? Stupid, stupid, stupid..." Teemo sighed (again) and set off to find the High Council.

* * *

_In Panem, specifically District 6 border_

"Tell me again, whose bad idea was it to try to travel to other districts again?" Ahri complained to herself as she trudged through the field. Vayne had managed to get a map of the Districts from Katniss's descriptions of the territories and made a copy for each champion. Apparently, she was already in the district but nobody was in sight. Piles of rusted metal... _things_ were scattered in the field, but strangely enough they were sorted by shape.

She had been running for about forty minutes, fully utilizing her abilities and the latent mana in the atmosphere. She was nowhere near exhausted, simply irritated. She was a total hypocrite, wasn't she? Complaining about her own genius plan.

"Who... are you?" A man had appeared while she was thinking about the circumstances. "Do... you need any help?"

"I'm fine, but I should ask you who you are first."

"I'm a citizen of District 6, home of the transportation industry. I help manage this junkyard. Are you a refugee? I can help you, but don't show yourself to the Peacekeepers..." His voice trailed off.

Ahri mentally thanked Soraka for helping her hide her ears and tails before they set off. Had she looked like a monster to these people, her plan wouldn't work.

"My name is, uh, Annie. Annie... Buvelle. Pleased to meet you, although you still haven't told me your name." Ahri wondered if she would ever see the holders of the names she had assumed again.

"Jesh Stilsaken, pleased to meet you. Let's get you out of this dreary place and somewhere warm." He motioned for her to follow him, then lead the way to a small cottage at the edge of the yard. "This is my humble home. You can stay here for a while."

"I need to be elsewhere at two..."

"Oh, yes, the Reaping. Dress up nicely, I have some clothes of my daughter's that would fit you. Hide from the guards, but not too obviously. You won't be picked, you'll be fine." He led her into the cottage, leaving her in a small but comfortable room. A few minutes later, he returned with a small pile of clothes. "Here. Standard clothing, your bright short skirt won't blend in very well. I should leave you here until noon, then I'll escort you to the plaza."

"Thank you." Ahri watched as he closed the door behind him. He was too kind for his own good, and she felt guilty to deceive him like this. Guilt. Something that she had not grown up with...

* * *

_Six Years Ago_

The fox darted from shadow to shadow, trying to hide herself from any human prying eyes that could watch her in the dark. Trying to find her next target.

There, a man alone in the night. Looked well-dressed, but walked like a robber. Shifty.

She sauntered up to him, still trying to hide from dark windows. It's easy. He guides himself into an alley.

"Hey there~" She half-whispered, trying to catch his attention. Her voice was still unpredictable, but she had only had it for two months. "Have any room~?"

He turned around, surprised by the whisper and the invitation. His eyes landed on the fox, taking in her attire and posture.

She stepped closer, and he grew less wary. It was just a woman, no threat. She sidled up to him, subtly taking his hand and using a smidge of her charming magic. She had mastered it on animals while wandering in the forest. The mana-potential she stole from the dying mage was amazing, and she intended not to waste it.

"I'll accompany you tonight. I don't want to be alone.~" She stepped in pace with him, focusing all her magic on charming this stranger into giving up all he had.

It worked.

He said nothing, but the ambiance shifted. She felt it, and planned her exploit of it.

The closest he got to winning her was being in the same small room. She took every drop of his life, mana, and money. But she felt a twinge of something she did not recognize. Did she earn all of this? Did she not deserve this reward for her hard work?

He had done nothing other than accept her, and she had turned the situation around within half an hour. She had stolen everything he had. She had betrayed him... but what? For what?

Glanced in the mirror, a small and cracked one. Her ears were no flatter, her tails no smaller, She had kept track for two whole months, and nothing had changed. She had counted seventy-three souls, but the changes were miniscule. Enough only to attribute to natural growth, and not her magically attained life essences.

Was it worth it? Why?

Refusing to admit defeat to herself, the fox slid out of the room. Escaped from her thoughts. Ran from her fears. She must attain her dream. She was so close. Have no regret and show no mercy.

* * *

_In District 12_

Vayne took off her crossbow and stashed it in a black messenger bag Katniss had bought at 'the Hob'. It would do not good to announce herself as a stranger to these lands, for the enforcers of the twisted law seemed to have more force than she did.

"The glasses have to come off too. Nobody has anything like that here in 12." Katniss commented, idling in the doorway and watching Vayne prepare.

Vayne took off the sunglasses resignedly and placed them in the messenger bag. She now looked like a typical District 12er, other than the fact that she didn't. Close enough to fit in for a while.

Katniss knew nothing about the three champions' plan. All she had been trying to do was let them blend into the crowd at the Reaping - if they didn't go, they would be imprisoned (although this wasn't a particularly terrifying prospect). She had asked where Soraka and Ahri were when Vayne returned, and why they had left, but she got no answer.

An hour passes in tense quiet. Katniss left to comfort her sister Prim over the Reaping, assuring her that she wouldn't be selected. _"Don't worry, you'll be perfectly fine... The Night Hunter has no plans to let any girl from this district be selected."_

"Tuck your tail in, little duck." Katniss's voice resounds through the room, through the wall.

"Quack." Prim's innocent voice responds. A gentle giggle.

Vayne, staring out the warped window, heard all of this. She isn't listening, but she hears it.

"Quack yourself. Come on, let's eat." A few minutes later, Prim enters the room bearing a small gift of cheese and bread.

"Here. I didn't forget you." She blushes slightly and nearly flees out of the room from Vayne's imposing presence.

Vayne takes the food and savors it... but her thoughts are not on the present.

* * *

_Twelve Years Ago_

Shauna skips through the gilded doorway, in response to her father's call. "Dad, I'm here!"

The noble looks up from his papers, and smiles at the sight of his six-year-old daughter, dressed in a light golden shawl and blue satin dress. "You look beautiful."

"Thank you." She looks at the floor in mild embarrassment, and then a loud crash makes them both look up in shock. It sounds of magic. "Wh-what is that?"

Her father frowns and glances around the room. Shauna is no expert of psychology, but she can tell her father is worried. "Don't worry. Go to your room."

"Okay." She half-runs to her room, and closes the door quietly behind her. She knows that her father's guards will keep them safe. Father never lied, and when he said they would be safe, she believed him. Everything would be fine. It was just a blip in their security. Not enough to threaten them.

She heard her parents talk anxiously in the hall outside her room. "Who is it?" Her mother's voice resonated within her mind. They _were_ worried.

"Run." Her father had no pretense of safety in his voice. Her mother made no movement.

Then, another crash. Shrieks of pain, and Shauna recognized the voices of some of the guards she had been playing with earlier in the day. Kind people. They could never be defeated!

Slow steps. The sound outside the closed door is nonexistent yet deafening. A wave of noise sweeps the atmosphere, and Shauna curled up in pain... and fear. Fear of the unknown.

"You... What are you doing here?" Her father's voice, mingled with pain and fear.

"Just checking to make sure you are all... _safe_." A smooth voice, laced with cruelty. Calm steps taken towards the door. Shauna resists the impulse to cry and dashes to the cupboard in her room. Climbed inside. Closed the door milliseconds before the hag pushed the door open, and using some type of magic to force her parents inside. "I could have sworn there was another presence here. Doesn't matter. Works just as well." The hag seems to know Shauna was there.

She positions herself just so that Shauna could see everything she did. The hag's back is turned to the cupboard, but her parents are in plain sight. Defeated already.

The hag cackles. Deranged. She levitates Shauna's father. Made him bleed. Cries of agony. This couldn't, can't be happening. No.

"Come out, little girl. Come out, or I will do to mummy what I have already done to daddy." The hag almost turns around, revealing a twisted grin on her face. Maniac. Psychopath.

Her mother cried out loud. Sobbing. Her body moved against her will, doing the hag's bidding. A million cuts and scrapes. Impossible.

"I'll give you one last chance to come out, lassie." The hag makes a hand motion, twisting her arm. Shauna refuses to watch and yet she did. Why? This...

"You are an awful child, girl, to make your mummy die this way." The hag's twisted smile grows impossibly bigger. Her eyes take in the blood, the mother's blood. Her arm drops just slightly. Then she laughed, cackled. Each laguh pierced by a shriek of pain. Her mother was... is unrecognizable.

An eternity. Shauna cannot draw her eyes away, and she knew this. But she didn't, couldn't didn't. Her father. Mother.

The hag tires of the game. Her appetite for torture ceases. But her deranged look, maniacal smile remains. She drops Shauna's mother like trash. Dead. Nothing but a corpse. Husk. Shell. Witch looks directly at Shauna, through the wood, the crack of the two doors. She smiles. Almost kind, and yet cruel. Infinitely cruel.

"All your fault, darling." The witch stalks out. A wake of death.

Eyes close. Breath finally comes. Tears. No tears. Revenge.

* * *

**More Author's Note**

**This story is going to be heavily League-centric. Heh.**


	4. Reaping

**Author's Note**

**I'm not exactly unoccupied. If there is anybody who actually likes my story out there, and has finished reading up to the chapter before the one that is unpublished, I'm sorry, and I try to have something done quickly.**

**:)**

* * *

_In District 11_

Soraka clambered over the fence.

Her horn was conveniently shrouded by some of Ahri's magic. Her skim remained lilac.

She looked at the sun. It was noon, an hour before she had to arrive at the Reaping. Everyone was gathered at one, according to Vayne. She didn't quite trust Vayne, but what were her other options?

She spotted a girl nestled in one of the tall trees that were fenced in. "Hello?" The word rolled off of her tongue gently, trying to convince the girl that she was not dangerous.

"Hmm?" The girl looked around for the source of the voice. She looked to her left and right, finally setting her eyes on the ground. "Aaah! Who are you?"

Soraka managed a faint smile. Her surprise was feigned and her curiosity was piqued. It would be fine. "My name is Soraka. I need a place to stay."

"Jeez, you could not have picked a worse day to play refugee. Well, the guards are starting their patrol now and you can't leave anymore, so I might as well take you with me to the Reaping. With some disguise, of course." Soraka almost grinned. This girl was... energetic. Spunky.

"Thank you. This means a lot to me." Soraka allowed herself to be led to a stone slab of a home. The girl, ecstatic with the new arrival (she either had no sense, or just plain hated daily life) helped Soraka disguise herself as an ordinary girl (Not easy.)

One-o-clock. Guards come and escort all the citizens to the plaza -

* * *

_In District 6  
_

-And sort all of the people into eligible and non-eligible. Ahri ducked under the rope that separated the adults from the teenagers. Jesh glanced at her, and noticed what she was doing.

"What are you doing, Annie? Get back over here. You want nothing to do with the Games."

"I know what I'm doing. I won't get myself killed. Thank you for the care, but I have somewhere else to be." Ahri bowed her head slightly and blended into the crowd.

No going back to hiding. She had to return home, and the leaders of this place could possibly do so.

* * *

_In District 12_

Vayne glanced at Katniss amongst the 16-year-olds. Upon entering the plaza, she had managed to work her way away from the Everdeens and convinced the Peacekeeper keeping watch that she was a 17-year-old. He resisted at first, then decided it didn't matter anyway.

Three chairs on the stage, two occupied with a stout man and a pink-haired woman. The buzz in the plaza is quiet, but it is there. The clock has not yet hit two.

Vayne looked around. The buildings were dilapidated and colorless. The people were divided into three groups: the richer ones, the poorer ones, and the guards and officials. Segregation.

The clock struck two. Now the show began.

The man stepped up to the lonely podium on the stage and began, in a monotone, to read.

"Welcome, Panem Citizens, to the Reaping Day for the 74th Annual Hunger Games. It is our tradition to gather here at the square, what many years ago was the Tony Aguirre Center on the West Side of Kansas City in the Country of United States, to draw the names of the young men and young women between the ages of 12 and 18 who will bravely represent their districts in this year's Games. Our great country of Panem rose up out of the ashes of this once continent of North America, whose destruction dates back hundreds of years." The words spill out. Boring. Toneless. Meaningless.

"The former civilization was far more advanced than we know—perhaps so advanced that they could communicate with people across the world, have any information available to them at the click of a button, and produce food and clothing for the masses with machines. Reportedly, they believed themselves to be indestructible." The mayor intoned. He looked bored as well. Clearly, there would be more to come. At this point, Vayne was simply observing his mannerisms.

"But as with any society or culture whose citizens refuse to be just that—citizens, performing civic duties, responsible for the well-being and care-taking of their communities, the so-called 'indestructible' 'United States' went through its rapid decline and eventual demise. In this former society was an institution they called 'school' —the philosophy and organization of educating the children and youth in the ways of thinking, re-thinking, problem-solving, and communicating. But it took much care, motivation, and energy to do this, and so began a rebellion." Rebellion. Dissent. War. Rune Wars.

"At a time when emphasis was put on relaxation and the reason for doing or knowing anything was becoming lost, the youth were overstressed, they said, and stopped doing work. One such school—Alta Vista—was in this very neighborhood. Gradually these 'schools' became holding facilities of an entire generation who was largely unprepared to lead the society they were in line to take over. And that unready day did come, and it was dark." Ignorance. Lack of knowledge. Naivete. Shauna, so naive as to believe that harm did not exist within the Vayne home. _"Shauna exists no longer..."_

"The unready generation had lost values of real community, keeping most 'friends' on a cyber network called the Internet that we still do not fully understand. They were far removed from understanding about the value and nutrition of food, not knowing how to grow it or where it came from—most diets consisted mainly of food strangely flavored in plastic packages." Uncaring. Back to monotony.

"This disconnection from the earth led to greater problems with the disposal of waste, burning of fossil fuels, and pollution and contamination of water and the vast abundance of natural resources. Such abuse literally impacted the environment so negatively that the world faced floods, droughts, hurricanes, and other natural disaster of epic magnitudes. As for the chaos between people, senseless fighting that began in the public school holding facilities translated into systemic violence in the streets, the loss of neighborliness, and the hording of goods and supplies during the societal and environmental breakdown. The mass consumption of oil translated into wars between states and countries when its availability began to run dry and the eventual resorting to nuclear weapons to annihilate enemies. The result: anarchy." The mayor started glancing up instead of reading whatever was presented on the paper that was surely on the podium, out of sight. The end of this speech was near.

"And we all know, that we must never see such chaos again. Thus, from our surviving ancestors, we have Panem—our country split into 12 districts that each play their specific role in providing for and sustaining the common good." He took a moment to look up, scanning the crowd. Meaninglessly.

"District 1, Luxury Items; District 2, Stone; District 3, Electronics. District 4, Fishing; District 5, Power; District 6, Transportation; District 7, Lumber; District 8, Textiles; District 9, Grain; District 10, Livestock; District 11, Agriculture; District 12, Mining." List.

"Our Capitol serves to supply our needs, protect us from the violence and ignorance we are capable of when we are free to do or go as we please. We have learned from our ancestors that humans just can't handle this sort of freedom, though of course we are reminded of the dark days, 75 years ago, when the some people in District 13 forgot this hard truth, and tried to go against the very government that sustains and protects them. District 13 is no longer with us, and but the Hunger Games live on to remind us of what violence and chaos really are, and that we must never go back to such a world. Over the next weeks we will watch the tributes in the arena fight to the death to bring their District great honor and an abundance of food. As we all know, there can only be one winner."

A drunkard stumbles onto the stage. He manages to seat himself in the third chair without injuring himself. The mayor looks briefly at him, and clearly shaken, he tries to wrap up the speech.

"So, without further adieu, I want to introduce our representative from the Capitol to choose the names of this year's Hunger Games tributes, Ms. Effie Trinket." The audience politely applauded.

The pink-haired woman rose up, and plastered a false grin over her face. Pink hair, white face, mint suit. "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!" False happiness.

She trots over to a small table onstage. Two clear, glass balls are atop it, each filled with thousands of paper slips. Vayne allowed a small smile to pass across her face. Her name was on none of them.

"Ladies first!" Effie almost shrieks, her voice is so sharp. Wheedly.

She reaches into the glass ball, searching for any piece of paper whose recipient would have been selected for the games. She pulls out one small slip. The suspense is held as she takes her time unfolding the paper and taking a deep breath.

"Primrose Everdeen."

Vayne doesn't quite recognize the name. She doesn't know who 'Primrose' is, only 'Prim'. She doesn't see Katniss's reaction. She is readying the right moment to volunteer.

"Prim!" The crowd turns around, seeing Katniss Everdeen trying to save her sister from the Games. "Prim! I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!"

The words are enough to remind Vayne of her task. Not following through would mean abandoning Ahri and Soraka. She answers Katniss's cries with her own claims.

"I volunteer as well." Stepping forth self-assuredly. Unlike Katniss, who is gasping out of shock. Calm composure.

Effie is surprised. Katniss's cry, followed by Vayne's. She knows neither of them. "Lovely!... but I believe there is a small matter of introducing the reaping winner and then asking for volunteers, and if one does come forth then we, um..." Her voice trails off. Unsure.

Katniss glances at Vayne. Her eyes cry, _"Why? This is my sister. I have the right to save my sister. You don't need to risk yourself. You aren't even eligible. You're older than 18."_

Vayne silently replies, _"For Valoran. For the League. For Ahri and Soraka. For the Night Hunter. For the destruction of evil. I will."_

Two challenges and none are equipped to handle them.

The crowd is silent.

* * *

_In District 6_

Ahri listens to the mayor's long speech. Not attentively. Just on the fringes of attention. She is worried about the champions back home. What are they doing? Is everyone fine?

The speech comes to a close. Polite applause, but no more.

The person selecting the tributes walks upstage. His name was announced, but Ahri wasn't listening. Selects a slip of paper from the glass ball, signifying the female tribute. "Lillian Petershide."

The girl, shocked, takes a deep breath and walks slowly up to the stage. The man smiles warmly. "Any volunteers?"

Ahri recognizes her moment. "I volunteer." _Perhaps too calmly, but it doesn't matter._

The man smiles again, less falsely this time. "Wonderful. And what is your name?"

* * *

_In District 11_

Soraka stood at the edge of a very large crowd of teens, with horn magically shielded and skin covered by a long dress provided by the farmer girl.

They had arrived slightly late, but the girl had managed to get them into the place for the Reaping. She had a way of convincing people easily.

A person was drawing a slip of paper out of a glass ball. It was a very large orb, filled with the names of many girls.

"Rue Tiamel." A young girl steps nervously out onto the pathway, trembling. Slightly.

Soraka pauses. She waits for the person to ask for volunteers, which the person does once Rue ascends onto the stage.

"That's great, Rue. You don't have to go to the Games. And you," motioning to Soraka, "what is your name?"

Soraka smiles and clearly pronounces her next two words.

"Soraka Celestine."

* * *

**Having to make up soooo many last names because neither the Hunger Games or League uses many last names :P**


	5. Goodbyes & 250mph

**Author's Note:**

**It's such a pain to research the backstory for every person... and to write the events in Valoran...  
**

* * *

_In the Institute of War_

Riven was in her room, trying to sleep. The sun kept shining down at the wrong angle, and no matter what she did, it kept annoying her.

_Knock. Knock. Taptaptaptap. Knock._

"Ughhhh... who is it?" Riven gave up on the idea of sleep.

"Riven! Wake up! Elder summoner has something to say to you!" Teemo's shrill voice penetrated through the still-closed door. "Hurry! He looked panicked or scared, be careful."

Riven groaned. Shrieking yordle just had to ruin her noon. "Fine."

Teemo had left by then, and Riven managed to make herself respectable before leaving the comfort of her room, reluctantly trudging towards the Summoners' Hall.

* * *

_In District 12  
_

Katniss looks at Vayne uncertainly. Her love for Prim still burns in her eyes, but she realizes that Vayne is offering her freedom from the Games.

Effie is dithering on the stage. She seems to have forgotten the rules about volunteering. "Um... ah... I... um..."

Katniss makes her decision, looking at Prim halfway up the stage. "I... you can take it." She motions at Vayne. "Volunteer."

Effie's smile pernamently pasted upon her face doesn't change. "Uh... It appears we have a volunteer now... What is your name?" She seems tempted to add the word 'darling' on.

Vayne steps lightly onto the platform. "Shauna Vayne."

* * *

_In District 6_

Ahri smiles, almost innocently, before answering "Ahri."

"What is your last name, sweetie?" Her Charm has worked quite well.

"My name is Ahri... Ionie."

"Well, then, let's welcome our volunteer, Ahri!" The man motions for her to prance onto the stage, and Ahri does. She curtsies gently, with false shyness.

Ahri gazes over the crowd, murmuring, whispering. The man next to her is talking... rambling about some Treaty, some war. _None of my business._

The man finishes speaking and asks the two tributes to shake hands, which Ahri does with slight reluctance. The boy in front of her is barely fourteen and looks dazed. Shocked. Typical, seeing as he's probably being hurled to his death, if anything that Katniss said was true.

A brief song plays, loud and somewhat arrogant. Once it ends, a group of uniform-clad men escort Ahri and the young boy inside the building, to separate rooms. Last words, but Ahri has nothing to say. She plays along anyway.

Turns out there is someone who has words to say. Jesh strides into the room, a combination of apprehension, anxiety, fear, and anger in his face.

"Annie, why? Who are you? Why would you volunteer?" His voice, cracked. _Does he really love me already? Not surprising._

"Jesh..." Ahri trails off, gathering her thoughts. "There are guards here. No need to make a scene." Her voice casual enough to pass notice.

"I know! But why?"

"I'm... I'll tell you later. I promise. Once I... win, I'll come here, I have to, and tell you everything. There is no time now." _This defense should hold... I won't be coming back anyway. No harm. He can't know everything. He shouldn't._

The guards open the doors and escort Ahri out, but as she stands up to take their guidance Jesh hands her a small woven-cloth bracelet. Colors, patterns, small crystals of stone. "Take this, then. Ahri, take this into the Games and remember us in District 6."

_So he can tell._

She accepts the bracelet. Takes one last minute of observe the grand room that she never considered, the thing that almost housed her desire to return home.

Through halls and doorways, out and back in, then a vehicle, buildings flashing by, track, cold metal hot warm, sun why did I have to leave? She fingered the bracelet, then gently tied it around her wrist. There was spirit essence, not of life but of love in the strands. Something to ponder and something to remember and keep.

* * *

_In District 11_

Soraka cringed as the cold hands of the Peacekeepers guided her into a rather majestic but dense room. She was supposed to be receiving 'last words' from any family or friends, but she knew that none would be available.

The girl ran through the doorway. The short girl who had accepted Soraka and clothed her, dressed her, hidden her, cared for her. "I came to say bye."

Soraka lets herself smile, but the moment is tragic.

"I hope you can win." The girl's sweet, simple and naïve words tumble out of her mouth. She knows what is at stake, so she thinks. "Stay safe. Think of us." She smiles and places a small flower in Soraka's hands, then leaves without a word.

The flower is almost crystalline, but beautiful. Freshly picked, and probably against the rules too.

Soraka calls to the latent magic around her, and the flower wakes up. Its petals shine. New life.

* * *

_In District 12_

"Katniss, I'll be fine. I won't die or anything. Stop worrying. Go back to your home and celebrate your freedom as you should, because I just took the worry off of you."

"But... care for Peeta, okay? Even if you can survive, it doesn't change anything if Peeta dies, because... we would all mourn anyway."

Vayne inwardly sighed, and nodded. "I will, now go home and stop worrying about the other tribute. He... Peeta, will be fine. I promise."

"And you... stay safe?" Prim's half-question. Half-reassurance.

"I will."

_I should be fine, anyway, if the malnourished people here are as weak as they look._

"And please... don't kill anyone unless you absolutely have to..." Katniss's mother is pleading now.

_Okay, that just made it a bit harder._

"I won't kill anyone unless it's to save my life, I won't let Peeta get injured unless it was completely out of my control, and I won't get hurt, because I can do so myself. Please. Go home. Stop worrying."

"And... take this into the Games. You're allowed one token to keep from home. Take it." Katniss hands a small golden pin to Vayne, a bird engraved onto it. A bird connected only by its wingtips to the circular frame. "You might not know what it is, but it's a mockingjay. A cross between the mockingbird and the jabberjay. It mocks the Capitol, and I want you to wear it proudly."

_Rebellion?_

"Mockingjay. Be free and defeat the Gamemakers."

* * *

_In Valoran_

Riven stood before the tall robed figure, Vessaria. Her eyes were hidden in the dim lighting, but her mouth moved quickly.

"... you to find Sona. She's missing. We need her. Ahri, Soraka and Vayne have been gone for a week now and the Fields have been inactive. Noxus is pushing at Demacia's borders and we have no grounds to remove the errant summoner from the Fields, as his father won't let us. Find Sona. Please."

"Why are you choosing me?" Not quite indignation, but close.

"Lee Sin can't see. Soraka is gone. Ahri is gone. Lestara Buvelle has no permission to search for her daughter on the grounds of the Institute. You've the next closest relation."

"Fine. What do I get?"

"Ask for it and we might provide. Only when you've found Sona. That issue is more pressing right now."

* * *

_On The District 12 Train_

"So, who are you? I know your name is Shauna, but you could introduce yourself some more. We're district partners." Peeta tries to start a conversation.

Vayne continues staring out the window. The rail moves quickly underneath them but the skyline of the advanced city barely changes. Squares, candy pastel, nothing technologically advanced.

"Hello?" Peeta asks.

"You can start first." Vayne replies, words empty, deep in thought.

"I'm Peeta Mellark. I'm a baker's son."

"Then my name is Shauna Vayne, and I'm..." What was she? A champion? No longer. "... someone who will survive the Games."

He sighs audibly and stalks back into his quarters of the train. Vayne continues staring out the window. Apparently she could do anything, but nothing is of interest to her. Stone halls, marble steps, metal flooring, curved windows... no difference. Dull.

Effie cheerily opens the door and takes in Vayne's moody look and her face, angled towards the window. "Dinner's ready, Shauna - "

"Call me Vayne. I'll come later."

" - um, okay, but don't come too late."

Vayne tires of the view when the train enters a long tunnel and all that can be seen is the spot of light that is visible at the very center... light at the end of a tunnel. Literally.

Upon entering the dining room, Peeta glances up. The table is covered with food, ranging from chocolate cakes to salad.

"Sit down, Shauna. Eat. Save some room. There's more to come." Effie says brightly, and continues dissecting her lamb chop.

Dinner is quiet, broken only by the silverware clinking against plates and bowls. Vayne eats little, as she usually did before a Fields match. A small piece of chocolate, a dish of salad, and some soup.

The food is taken away and Effie guide Peeta, looking as if he ate too much, and Vayne to another room with a medium-sized screen. Effie starts playing a video of the reapings.

District One. Two are selected, but other immediately jump forth to volunteer. Glimmer, Marvel.  
District Two. Same. Clove, Cato.  
District Three. Four. Five.

District Six. Ahri steps forth. Ahri Ionie.

District Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten.

District Eleven. Soraka and a boy named Thresh.

District Twelve. Vayne watches herself step forth and win the volunteer. Katniss's panicky, instinctive yell, but she retreats. No need to put herself in harm's way.

The video ends, and Effie criticizes. "Your mentor has a lot to learn about presentation. A lot about televised behavior."

Peeta laughs. "He was drunk. He's drunk every year."

"Yes." She remarks. Hiss. Growl? "How odd you find it amusing. You know your mentor is your lifeline to the world in these Games. The one who advises you, lines up your sponsors, and dictates the presentation of any gifts. Haymitch can well be the difference between your life and your death!"

_Sure. Totally. Like I haven't slain thousands of world-changing champions before. Like I can't even aim a silver-tipped bolt accurately. Thanks a lot._

Vayne glares at Effie, no reason given, and stalks out of the compartment, just in time to avoid Haymitch's drunken stupor in. He slurs incoherent words and vomits on the carpeted ground, then falls into unconsciousness.

Effie steps daintily over Haymitch's body. "So laugh away!" She leaves.

Haymitch stirs. "I tripped? Smells bad." He wipes his nose, but it leaves his face covered with vomit.

"Let's get you back to your room," says Peeta. "Clean you up a bit."

Vayne reluctantly helps Peeta lead Haymitch to his compartment, dumping him on the bed. Peeta starts filling the backtub with water.

"It's okay," Peeta says to Vayne. "I'll take it from here."

"Alright. You don't need any help?"

"No. No help. I can do this myself."

Vayne quietly leaves the compartment, leaving Peeta to clean Haymitch up by himself. Nothing to do. Nighttime has settled. Can't sleep.

She wanders to her room, and shuts the door. She turns off the lights, making the room pitch black. She rifles through her sidebag that she hid under her cloak - gauntlet, crossbow, glasses. Perfect.

Target practice for a while, but it quickly becomes pointless. Why practice when each shot hits dead on?

The metal door, studded with metal bolts in a perfect array.

Patterns, droplets of blood against a wall. Champions. Witch, perhaps. Evil creatures.

Lines. Scratches.

_I hunt my demons in my sleep. I have to._

Nocturne?

Void. Cho'Gath.

Danger.

Father.

Sleep came quickly.

* * *

_On The District 6 Train_

Ahri was locked in her dimly lit room, bouncing her Charm orb. After dinner, she had reluctantly tolerated her escort's request to watch the reapings. Immediately after they finished, she left the room and locked herself into her own quarters.

_Bounce. Twist. Charm. Rush. Dash. _

Warming up her abilities, as she always did before a League match. It helped her focus.

_Essence? Orb. Push, pull. Out. In._

She felt her senses drawn to the bracelet Jesh had given her.

It was woven tightly, with colored string. Beautiful patterns filled the weave, depicting small birds and flowers. Diamonds patterned one of the ties, while the other tie was decorated with cartoonish hearts.

The magic emanating from it was intoxicating.


	6. Who Are You?

**Please review? Please?**

* * *

The deceleration of the floor and everything around her brought Vayne into consciousness. Soft light filtered through the closed blinds, landing on the floor in straight lines. The room was dim but bright enough to see and navigate.

_Oh. Train._

Effie bursts into the room, and chirps "Up, up, up! It's going to be a big, big, big day!" She throws a wide grin at Vayne and closes the door gently as she leaves.

_Stupid woman.  
_

Vayne had slept in her "Reaping" clothes (truth be told, it was the outfit she wore in League matches, while hunting monsters, during her Judgement and other "special" events, and on every single day after she joined the League.) She pulls the messenger bag over her shoulder, containing her two gauntlets, red sunglasses, and various supplies. Tying her hair up as she leaves her room, she retraces the path to the dining room and arrives in time to see Haymitch (puffy and red, probably from alcohol overdose), Effie (just as prim and proper, and undeniably silly as yesterday), and Peeta (holding a pastry, looking perfectly normal).

"Sit down! Sit down!" Haymitch waves Vayne over, seating her next to him and placing a giant platter of fruits, vegetables, breads, meats, and other unidentifiable substances.

Vayne's glance lands on the cup of steaming brown liquid, which smells faintly of sugar.

"They call it hot chocolate. It's good." Peeta says, noting Vayne's observations.

Vayne picks up some fruit and begins peeling it, noting that Haymitch is mixing his wine with alcohol and drinking it.

_I owe Katniss, don't I..._

She takes a bite out of her fruit, waits a moment, and speaks. "So you're supposed to give us advice?" _Not that I need it, but Peeta looks like he does._

"Here's some advice. Stay alive." Haymitch bursts out laughing, but Vayne notes that Peeta has a cold expression in his eyes.

"That's very funny" Peeta replies, calmly but coldly. He lashes out at Haymitch's glass and it breaks on the floor. "Only not to us."

Haymitch stares at Peeta for a moment, then punches Peeta in the jaw. He then sits back down and reaches for another bottle of alcohol. Vayne impales the table right between Haymitch's hand and the bottle of spirits with her fruit knife, barely half a centimeter away from his finger. She glares at Haymitch.

"Well, what's this? Did I really get a pair of fighters this year?"

_No, really now, I totally looked as if Taric could defeat me in a solo queue._

Peeta begins nursing his bruise, but Haymitch stops him. "Let the bruise show. The audience will think that you've mixed it up with another tribute even before you've made it to the arena."

"That's against the rules."

"Only if they catch you. That bruise will say you fought, you weren't caught, even better." Haymitch turns around to face Vayne. "Can you hit anything with a knife other than that table?"

Vayne glances at him with an appraising look. "Give me a target."

Haymitch points at the wall.

"A smaller one."

Haymitch glances around, and points at a discoloration on the wall.

"Fine." Vayne picks up a butterknife and weighs it for a second, then hurls it at the stain on the wall. It lodges into the wood firmly, even with its nearly nonexistent cutting blade. _Let's leave the silver bolts for the real game._

"Stand over here. Both of you." Haymitch commands, and watches as Peeta and Vayne line themselves up about a foot away from each other. He stands up and inspects both tributes, then sits back down, satisfied. "Well, you're not entirely hopeless. Seem fit. And once the stylists get ahold of you, you'll be attractive enough."

He pauses a moment, then continues. "All right, I'll make a deal with you. You don't interfere with my drinking, and I'll stay sober enough to help you. But you have to do exactly what I say."

_No problem, Vladimir. Oh wait, all you command is the lousy realm of alcohol. My bad._

"Fine." Peeta says.

"So...?" Vayne questions, leaving her unstated request for Haymitch to begin doing his job.

"One thing at a time. In a few minutes, we'll be pulling into the station. You'll be put in the hands of your stylists. You're not going to like what they do to you. But no matter what it is, don't resist." Haymitch states.

"But..." Vayne begins. _What in the world does appearance have to do with victory, you idiot?_

"No buts. Don't resist." His gaze falls squarely on Vayne, nearly challenging her but chiding her to obey. He stalks out of the compartment.

The windows suddenly turn bright, revealing the candy-colored Capitol. The buildings seem whimsical, the people like painted dolls, with nothing but hollowness inside. _Yordle city, Ionian toys, Zaunite technology but all of them are idiots. Amusing._

Peeta stands up, and start waving and smiling at the currently-gawking Capitol citizens.

"What in Valoran are you doing...?!"

"Who knows? One of them might be rich." Peeta goes back to fondling the Capitol citizens, leaving Vayne to take in the people by herself.

* * *

Venia, blue-haired and with golden stencils on her skin. Octavia, an almost pea-colored and -shaped woman. Flavius, with orange overcurled hair and purple lips. _This is called a prep team? No wonder the Capitol is so screwed up._

Vayne had refused to let them "assist" her unless they promised to not change anything. They had cautiously decided what to do at knifepoint, but in the end had decided nothing. Vayne was fine as she was (then again, the League Judgement was worse anyway).

Now, Cinna was in her room, appraising her. He notably lacked the strong accent and the insane fashions that the rest of the citizens had, instead preferring to don his natural hair and only one piece of self-alteration.

With brief introduction, and a period of quiet silence.

Cinna finally speaks. "Why don't you put on your robe and we'll have a chat."

Vayne ignores the _robe_ part and redresses back into her iconic (and long-serving) outfit. She follows Cinna into a warm sitting room.

He presses a button on a table and a platter of food rises up, a creamy soup, peas, pudding. Nothing too complex, but this would be a feast for the citizens in the districts.

"How despicable we must seem to you." Cinna remarks. "No matter."

Vayne silently sits down in a chair and waits for Cinna to do the same, which he does swiftly.

"So, Vayne, about your costume for the opening ceremonies..." Cinna begins.

"I'm fine with what I have."

"Your current outfit is fine, but you will need to dress to reflect your District in the opening ceremony. My partner Portia is the stylist for your district partner Peeta. We're thinking about complementary costumes."

"So, then, what will I wear?" _Don't be crazy..._

"Portia and I think that the entire coal miner thing is overdone," Cinna begins. _Right. District 12 is coal._ "No one will remember you in that. And we both see it as our job to make the District Twelve tributes unforgettable. So instead of focusing on the mining, we're going to focus on the coal. What do we do with coal? We burn it." He looks up from his reverie, and asks, "Are you afraid of fire?"

"No."

"Perfect."

* * *

Vayne, donning a black (not red, sadly, that's in her messenger bag) cape, headpiece, and leotard, climbs onto the district chariot.

"It's not real flame, of course, just a little synthetic fire Portia and I came up with. You'll be perfectly safe." Cinna says, as he helps Peeta onto the chariot. The two stylists carefully arrange the capes into the chariot, and recheck the positioning.

The anthem of Panem begins blasting at maximum volume outside, and both tributes watch as the jewel-encrusted District 1 champions are pulled out on their glittering chariot. District 2 tributes, with their stone. _Nothing like Pantheon, if not shinier. And less useful in a gank. Ha._

District 6. Ahri, dressed in a silver gown with small crescent-shaped accents. She uses her Charm inconspicuously, and looks breathtaking. Her nine tails are obvious, but could be easily attributed to her stylist. _Well, her stylist over there looks shocked too... guess she never confided._

District 11. Farmer-like costumes. Soraka keeps looking over at Ahri, and Ahri at Soraka. Vayne can imagine the argument... _"The moon should be mine." "Well my stylist gave it to me and it looks better on me." "I'm the celestial daughter." "Well you look just as well with your silver branches."_

District 12, finally. Cinna motions for Vayne and Peeta to hold hands, which they do reluctantly. The chariot begins moving, and as the sky darkens, more attention goes to District 12 than 6 (even with Ahri blowing Charms like crazy.)

Roses, cheers, calls, wild expressions of adoration. Vayne glances around, rather unimpressed, but this only manages to elicit more attempts to earn her approval. _The rabble. Aren't they supposed to be above us, not below us?_

The president's speech is mercifully short, but it's clear even during this brief period of time that Districts 6 and 12 have earned Capitol recognition. Peeta and Vayne, the tributes on fire. Ahri, who by nature charmed everyone she met.

The chariots return to their rooms, and the tributes descend. Stares, glances, and looks of pure hatred towards Vayne and Peeta, slightly fewer to Ahri.

The fire capes are put out, and on the elevator ride back upstairs both Peeta and Vayne are silent. Thinking about the days to come. Effie, meanwhile, is blabbering all over the place.

"I've been very mysterious, though." Her eyes are squinted. "Haymitch hasn't bothered to tell me your strategies. But I've done my best with what I had to work with. How Vayne volunteered to save a 12-year-old who she barely knew. How you've both successfully struggled to overcome the barbarism of your district. Everyone has their reservations, naturally. You being from the coal district. But I said, and this was very clever of me, I said, 'Well, if you put enough pressure on coal it turns to pearls!' Unfortunately, I can't seal the sponsor deals for you. Only Haymitch can do that. But don't worry, I'll get him to the table at gunpoint if necessary."

_Pearls? Diamonds? Seriously?_

Upon entering her room, Vayne once again shuts the door, cleans herself, and shuts off the lights and closes the drapes. Darkness, a second home. Where she learned her craft, and where she learned to survive.

A gentle knock on the door brings Vayne out of her reverie.

"Come in." Ahri slinks in, and shuts the door softly behind her. "Hey, Ahri. Where's Soraka?"

"Ohhh... Her stylist dragged her into her room the last time I saw her, so I don't know. Is your district partner in his room?"

"Yes. I believe Peeta returned to his room."

"Good. I hate having to act like a famished District 6 girl who was crazy enough to commit virtual suicide."

"Well. Do you have any information on what we could use to return to Valoran?"

"To the point, no~? Apparently, the Capitol has enough problems with Panem, as far as I've been able to gather from my stylist, to deal with the outside world."

"So... if nobody has information on Runeterra...?"

"Then we're trapped here." Ahri frowns slightly, and continues speaking. "I don't even think we're on the same surface as Runeterra. The mana balance is too pure. It seems like no mage has ever lived on this world, other than us. The Rune Wars would leave a huge scar in the mana balance... that's not here."

A noise near the door makes both Champions twitch and turn around to see who enters -

Peeta opens the door slowly, turns the light on, and widens his eyes in surprise upon seeing Ahri and Vayne together.

"I... heard you talking." He stammers, trying to find an excuse for barging into Vayne's room.

"And what did you hear?" Vayne's demand. Question.

"My name. Someplace called Valoran, Runeterra. You being trapped. Rune Wars... just what are you?"

Ahri looks at Vayne, surprise and anger in her eyes. "What do we do about him? K -"

"No. Katniss - that's the girl that volunteered for her sister, ultimately backed down - made me promise not to harm him. Why would I break that?"

Peeta watches the exchange between the two champions, confused.

"Tell me. You obviously aren't District 6 and 12 born." He finally asks.

Both Hunter and Fox turn to face him, and each other.

"Tell him. Make him promise on his life. It's not like we can't handle some fighting anyway." Vayne finally decides, leaving the explanation to Ahri. She turns back and begins her nightly routine of bolt shooting.

Ahri sighs, and takes Peeta's hand, leading him onto the roof of the building.


	7. Secrets and Slashes

**Katniss/Peeta OTP, and Ahri won't interrupt!**

* * *

Ahri sits crosslegged on the cold stone roofing of the building, as Peeta paces around her, waiting for her story to begin. But Ahri does not begin.

Peeta continues pacing. Waiting. It's clear Ahri is gathering her words.

"Peeta. Is that not your name?" Ahri finally vocalizes, in crystal, mellifluous sounds. "Baker's son. Peeta Mellark, the male tribute of District 12, the coal-mining district whose tributes have failed so survive every single year thus far."

Peeta looks up. This information was hardly shocking, as anyone who asked was given this basic knowledge. Even a stranger who participated in the Games would know this by now. Ahri kept speaking.

"I know what's in your mind. Your intrusion was tantamount to curiosity. Well. Don't regret your choice. If you speak these words or reveal these things which I am about to pass to you to any human or otherwise sentient creature, I will ensure that you will die by any means possible."

"I understand." The words are quiet. He knows how much he can stand and the fact that Katniss allowed Vayne to volunteer for Prim provides further reason to listen.

Ahri takes a deep breath, and stands up. Slowly, she pulls the wig she's worn since the train ride off of her head, revealing her fox ears and long, smooth black hair that flutters in the gentle breeze. Small sparks of mana emit from her fingers and the construct dissolves into nothing. Her black ears twitch slightly. After a moment, the second construct around her tails dissolves, revealing the nine cream-white tails. Her eye color changes from dark brown to a pulsating golden, and small whiskerlike marks on her face reveal themselves.

"I am not a human." The words are simple, designed and planned to allow themselves into a shocked mind easily.

The tails are no surprise to Peeta (recalling the chariots), but the ears and eyes are. He unconsciously gasps a little, than manages to ask, "Then... what are you?" Slow veil of suspicion descends upon his words.

"A half-fox." Ahri's smile twitches, amused by the way Peeta attempts to hide his expressions. "Born in the forests of Ionia, my homeland. A small island, nothing compared to the lands of Demacia or Noxus."

Peeta nods slowly, comprehending the very basics of Runeterran history with difficulty.

"Runeterra, a whole world unexplored. Valoran, a continent larger than your districts combined. Freljord, Demacia, Noxus, Zaun, Piltover, Bandle City... a wide range of humans, yordles, spirits, monsters, and mages." Ahri glances at Peeta, barely keeping up. She continues anyway.

"The history of Valoran is of no matter. I suppose it is... our history you were interested in?"

"... Yes."

"I was a young fox who would give anything to become truly human... I stumbled across the remnants of a battle. Hundreds of people were dead or dying as I trotted towards one barely-breathing mage, dressed in deep purple and taking shallow breaths. Curious."

"Continue."

Ahri's smile twists as she bites her lip softly, and then continues speaking in such a quiet voice Peeta must strain to hear it over the now-gusty breeze: "I took his life energy. I took his spirit and became human off of that. I tried so hard to lose the tail, the ears, the whiskers. I murdered tens of people, and what changed? Nothing. I was half-fox, doomed to be so for the rest of my life."

Peeta's eyes widen.

_Yes, I'm a murderer. I'm sorry._

"There exists in our world an organization called the Institute of War. They employed the most outcast heroes, the strongest beings, the darkest souls chained to fragments of Nexus. Out of desperation and regret, I joined them in the hopes that I could repent for my deeds and become human that way. I stayed there. I learned the art of fighting there."

"So... why are you here?"

"I don't know. Vayne was trapped here first, then Soraka. I came here to try and help them."

Ahri turns away, unwilling to say more. Peeta follows her out of the cold air, back into the tributes' building.

"I told you that you didn't want to know."

* * *

_In the Institute of War_

Riven tapped on Sona's door, wishing desperately that Sona was in.

No response.

"Wonderful!" Riven storms out of the halls, trying to think of a place where Sona would be. Not in the room, not in the dining hall, not in the gardens.

The twang of badly tuned metal instruments sounds from behind the door Riven stands next to. Mordekaiser's band was horrible, but Riven would dare to risk punctured eardrums to bring the three missing champions back to Valoran.

Mordekaiser looks up, his red eyes piercing Riven's light brown ones. "What do you want?" His helmet is slightly askew, his red metal guitar poised to either play or attack.

"Have you seen Sona?" Riven barely pushes the words past her lips, terrified of Mordekaiser as she is.

"Yes. Why?" The red guitar begins to look increasingly like a battle axe to Riven.

"Ah... um... Elder Summoner Vessaria wanted me to find her..."

"Very well, Exile. She is in the dressing room preparing for a _Pentakill_ concert."

Riven quickly walked into the dressing room, relieved to be free of Mordekaiser's aura. She closed the door firmly behind her, and called out unsurely. "Sona? Vessaria wants to see you."

A quiet rustling came from the compartment behind Riven. The white-haired woman turned around to see Sona. Her typically azure hair was straightened and dyed red (or was it a wig? Riven couldn't tell) and her normally docile and harmless-looking etwahl was fitted with metal blades on the edges. The perfect string player for _Pentakill_.

Sona smiled mutely and tilted her head as if to ask, "_What's the matter?_"

"Elder Summoner Vessaria wanted me to find you."

"_Oh._" Sona dashed back into the changing compartment, closed the curtain, and came back out in her regular clothing and with typical etwahl within a minute, then followed Riven to Vessaria's hall.

"_Is it that urgent, Elder Summoner?_"

Vessaria looked up, and nodded as she finished writing her paperwork. "Come with me, Miss Buvelle."

* * *

_In the Capitol_

The night is quiet, and the tributes are all sleeping, with the exception of four.

Soraka is sitting on a small balcony she managed to find near her room, absorbing the moonlight and the gentle breeze.

Vayne is in her room, still shooting bolts at the wall and retrieving them. Too tired to sleep, ironically.

Ahri is tossing her Orb Of Deception around on her tails, also too tired to sleep. And planning her next few days out in perfect detail.

Peeta is trying to comprehend what he learned in the last forty-five minutes.

The night is perfectly quiet, marred only by the midnight revels of the shallow-minded Capitol citizens, oblivious to the three beings who don't belong.

* * *

_Night:_

Flight of night, hunt the shadows

Wisps untouched, wind not hallowed

Silver arrow, fly apart

Strike the darkness in the heart

Killing strike, then depart

Nothing but a bloody dart -

_Justified? Of course it's so_

_On this mission, we shall go_

_Purge the League of dark and black_

_For righteousness they truly lack_

_Death for death, kill for kill_

_Bolt for bolt, blood bank fill_

_Monsters, evil, Voidborn same  
_

_Will wish they never to the League came_

Is this true? is it right

Father, help me hunt the night

Vengeance anger hemo-dead

Why continue on this bloodshed?

(told herself, this is my path)

:slay demons much like Cho'Gath

who am i? where do i go...?

inner path, refuse to show

Continue on. Crossbow armed

Night Hunter shan't depart

(not guard the weak but purge the strong?)

(how long will this last, how long?)

(continue, then, foolish girl.)

Shauna?

* * *

_The Next Day_

Haymitch leans back in his chair, drinks from a small flask and then speaks. "So, let's get down to business. Training. First off, if you like, I'll coach you separately. Decide now."

A moment of silence, then Peeta asks, "Why would you coach us separately?"

"Say if you had a secret skill you might not want the other to know about." Haymitch replies.

Peeta and Vayne exchange glances. _That's right. Did Ahri not tell you my story? _

"You can coach us together." Vayne finally answers.

"All right, so give me some idea of what you can do." Haymitch says.

"I can't do anything," says Peeta. "Unless you count baking bread."

"Sorry, I don't. Vayne, I already know you're handy with a knife." Haymitch prompts.

"Enough to pierce wood, not enough to survive." Vayne answers. "I'm better with my... own weapons."

"What kind?"

Vayne pulls the gauntlet out of her bag and puts it on, continuing to arm herself properly. "Target?"

Haymitch points at the wall, but nowhere specific. Vayne rolls her eyes in exasperation, then aims and launches a silver bolt at a single remaining grape on the golden platter in one smooth motion: duck, point, launch, stand.

The grape is no more than a watery stain; Haymitch reflexively whistles in approval. "I'll see if I can get that into the arena. You're going to need a lot of sponsors. In your session with the Gamemakers, show them that, but don't flaunt it during the training sessions. Not that you'd have a crossbow in the training sessions anyway. Are you any good at trapping?"

"No." The word is brief, final.

"Learn to trap, it could be the difference between life and death. The plan will be the same for both of you. Learn something new, like using a spear, making traps. Don't show what you can do to the other tributes, only the Gamemakers. Clear?"

Peeta and Vayne nod wordlessly.

"Alright. Meet Effie at ten by the elevator. You are dismissed."

Vayne is the first to leave the room, followed by Peeta, with a faster pace than hers. Vayne quickly paces to her room, but Peeta follows closely behind.

"She didn't tell me everything." Peeta begins speaking first. "Valoran, Runeterra, places like that. Who are you?"

Vayne turns around. "You, child, do not want to know. You have no business in this. You have no stake, no reason to care. Why should I trust you?"

"What do you think I'll do with the information, report to Snow about it? You don't understand Panem. You might know how it works but you don't understand it!"

Silence.

"Very well. After... _training._" Disgust at having to train for something she once did every day, maybe every week.

* * *

_Soraka:_

The celestial being wakes from her slumber, and inspects the invisibility construct that Ahri had created around her body for any flaws. The magic works perfectly to disguise the fact that Soraka was not human, hiding her true skintone and horn.

She notes the time: it is five minutes to ten, time to enter the training room, By the tine she descends into the underground gymnasium, most of the other champions have already arrived.

The instructor, Atala, speaks briefly to the tributes once all of them gather. There will be no physical combat with another tribute, and they are allowed to explore the room to learn more about each activity.

Soraka glances around at the other champions. The majority of them appear underfed and malnourished, and only a few show any sign of competitiveness. Upon Atala's dismissal, the stronger ones head straight to the heavy weapons stations and begin dismembering dummies with ease.

_Wonderful. All I need are some bruisers on my tail._

Thresh heads off to another station immediately as Soraka continues surveying the tributes. The District 1, 2, and 4 tributes are gathered around the weapon stations, while Thresh is at the snare station. Vayne glances around, her eyes meeting Ahri's and Soraka's before turning around and discussing something with Peeta.

Ahri almost squeals with delight that there is an open area with padded mats, and begins practicing her acrobatics there, which seemed almost beautiful until Soraka saw her practicing acrobatics against a dummy. With knives in her hands.

Soraka heads to the edible plants station, hoping to gain some healing knowledge. The berries there are small and foreign to Soraka, but she masters making poultices and concoctions (_too much like Singed_) to heal quickly.

* * *

_Ahri_

Her moves are sleek, and her invisible tails feel the sharp wind that doesn't move against their fur. Two glinting blades in each hand, she strikes repeatedly at the practice dummy. Slash.

Slash.

"Those daggers are mine, little girl." A sharp, cold voice slices through Ahri's focus, and she rolls an extra time before standing up and facing the speaker.

"Would you like to explain that to the Gamemakers?" Lightly accented with the sounds of an Ionian fox, but Ahri's words are still melodic and innocent. "Perhaps you'd like to tell them that you didn't prepare for the Games beforehand, illegally?"

"Who are you?"

"Ahri Ionie, of District (_umm..._) Eleven. You, arrogant girl?"

"Watch who you insult, farmer girl. Clove of Two, little girl, and watch out because the first death is going to be yours." The girl - Clove - steps off with a murderous look.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world." Ahri's parting reply. _Let the Games begin._


End file.
